Slide
by mpj213
Summary: After meeting her in the most unexpected place, Stefan finds himself barely able to keep the woman he loves from straying back down the path she's followed for so long.
1. Jackass

Stefan snuck through the door of the club. It was rather full for a Monday night, but it _was_ Monday night. That's why he was there, after all. Here lately every day felt like Monday. Work was piled and waiting on him, but tonight he was ditching it for some time away. The sweet stench of alcohol rose off the crowd as he joined in, eying a table near the platform where the biggest shows of the night took place. A waitress with big-teased hair and a shiny costume, just like every night, swooped by and picked his hand from his side. She pulled him kindly towards one of the front seats against the platform and sat him down. There was a drink on the table before he could spit out his order. The charms of becoming a regular.

"Show starts in five, sweetie," she cooed, letting her bony fingers toy a little with his hair before she turned away. With it this early, it was a surprise that he'd gotten a seat.

"Well hello," a somewhat sweet voice said. By the tone, Stefan figured it was one of the girls who walked around, preying on the men to try to woo them for a private dance. He rolled his eyes. Again?

"Not interested," he spat a bit bitter. By now these girls knew he wouldn't give in. He had some cash to spare, but not enough for a dance. Or that's what he told them. He really just didn't appreciate many of the many of the PDs as they were called. There was a disgusted snort.

"Fine. I don't lean your way anyway, Jackass." Stefan had never heard a PD speak like that. Usually they were flirty and scribbled their name down "just in case."

"Excuse me?"

"No. You're in interested, remember?" a snippy blonde mocked him from the seat beside his. She trained her eyes on the pole in front of her, leaning on folded arms against the table. Whomever she's was, she was a handful. He could tell already.

"I apologize," he returned truthfully, surprised to see a woman on this side of the platform with more than an ultra-mini skirt on. "I thought you were a PD."

"Oh. Now you're going to insult me? Real sweet, dude." She shook her head. Stefan exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Look, I'm sorry. My mistake. Maybe if I'd of looked I would have known better." The woman gave a short chuckle and slowly turned in her stool.

"Smart. I'm Lexi. Look before you bite next time, tiger." He couldn't help but smile a little.

"Stefan. Nice to meet you."

"I'd ask if you come here often, but considering your snappiness I'm assuming you do. Those PDs can really ride your nerves." Stefan rose a brow.

"You come here often?" He almost repeated her question. Usually women found these places "disgusting," "scummy," and "deformative of the female race." Just to name a few he'd heard over the years. Personally, he saw the female body as something to be seen. It was a gorgeous piece of work. Some so dainty and others not, but just as mesmerizing as the others.

"I'm rather regular. How come I've never seen you? I'd remember a face like that if I saw it."

_I was just thinking the same thing, _he wanted to say, but he shrugged instead.

"Considering it's-" he flashed a look at his watch. "Two-thirty in the morning? Damn." Lexi laughed.

"You picked the best time to come. All the prettiest ones work the late shift." About that time, a series of women strutted out onto the runway covered all in matching outfits. Pieces of chiffon turned their bare-skinned bodies into silhouettes. Each. They each took their poles on separate platforms, slowly beginning to peel away the few layers they wore.

"So what? Wife, kids, house full of stress?" Lexi's eyes never tore from the stage. It was like she was evaluating every move of the girl before them with almost wonder.

"No," he chuckled, sloshing the drink in front of him around in the glass as he too watched. "I just got stuck in my work and came to deflate."

"What do you do?"

"I write. Articles, a book or two."

"Like what?" God she asked a lot of questions. Not that he minded.

"I wrote a couple ghostwriter gigs. Only got paid. No real acknowledgement." It kind of depressed him. He's poured a year's worth of his soul into a book some company needed finished and all he got was money. Not that he minded the money, but he'd worked hard. And the books sold a lot.

"Don't get too excited over there, mister author man,: she chided. The girls did a swing and artfully landed between their poles, backs to them and almost bare asses shining before taking the next silver pole over.

"I will. One day. What about you. Are you learning or something?" Lexi's head slowly turned, manicured brow cocked in disbelief.

"You're really too cute. You think I'm learning? I'm here to observe, just like you. This club's got the prettiest chicks in town." Stefan's own brow shot up as he finally realized. Damn he was fried.

"Oh. I see now."

"I'm very open to possibilities. Both ends of the spectrum kinda girl." She laughed. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm cool with it. I just thought you might have been here to sign up or something." She let out a full-fledged guffaw at that.

"Jesus no! Do you know how much money I wouldn't get paid? Just because I suck at gravity?" Stefan laughed.  
"Aw c'mon. You mastered those shoes you've got on, didn't you?" He jabbed a finger at the hot pink heels she was wearing. They had heels that could have passed for needles. It was no question that they made her at least three inches taller. How the hell any woman walked in any shoe of that kind was beyond him. They looked like death certificates waiting to be signed.

"I'm a glutton for punishment." Lexi rolled her eyes at him, returning her attention to the pole-workers.

"Hey." Her blue eyes lit up as she jabbed Stefan's ribs a second later, successfully sending a sharp "ow" through the air. "You need to give me your number, jackass. You're not that bad of a bar buddy. No hetro." She waggled the fingers of a splayed palm, waiting. He laughed a bit and scribbled his number onto a napkin with a head shake. How his handwriting was ever accepted in school he'd never know.

"I'll give you a shout one day. Coffee, drinks, another night here. That okay?" He nodded.

"Sure thing. You're leaving me already?"

"Don't cry. I'll be back. Not tomorrow. The next day. Can't have the girlfriend on my ass."

"I'll try. She think you're out partying without her?"

"Partying?" Lexie snorted. "She knows where I am. I think she calls this place...erm...'white trash alley?' I tell her she's just jealous. She's a bit of a snob sometimes." Lexi waves a hand, downing her drink.

"White trash alley? That's a little harsh." Stefan chuckled a little.

"Like I said, She's a bitch. Better than everyone else." Lexi rolled her eyes at herself, swinging her feet until she landed bluntly on her needle-heels.

"Later, boobie buddy." He offered to walk her to her car, but she waved him away as she left. God. What had he gotten into there? She was some kind of firecracker. He assumed somehow that a woman bold enough to come to a strip joint to watch would be.


	2. Not As It Seems

One of the joys of being a writer was kind of being able to govern your own work hours. As long as you got something done in time, who cared what he did and when? His laptop sat on the desk, waiting to be used. He'd spent two hours the night before, coming up with a paragraph more of his own novel. He couldn't complain. It was more than he'd written in a while. He'd submitted a shit article for the local paper, the job that kept a roof over his head. It was on the football game between the rival high schools of the county. The city's team had won. Of course. They always won. He hadn't even gone, but he revved up the dusty facebook page and stole highlights from the information there. That's why it was shit. Unreliable sources. But at least he'd came up with something. And false info or not, they'd publish it. They needed something to fill that space.

Some number made Stefan's phone buzz on the table by the bed. _Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. _And it stopped. Oops. He'd call back. Later. When he got up. Whenever that was. He'd just barely gotten to sleep. Or at least he thought. What time was it? _Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. _God damn it. With a groan, he snatched it by the cord, letting it skid onto the sheets beside him. Who the hell was this at...two?

"Hello?" he found himself snapping a little.

"Geez. Maybe Groucho is a better name for you." It was Lexi. He hadn't heard from her since that night at the club. He'd almost wondered if she'd just forgotten about him. He certainly hadn't her. First buddy he'd had at a bar in a long while and it was a chick with a taste for the stage talent.

"Is something wrong?"

"Wrong? I'm calling to see if you wanted to go to Topless tonight."

"At two?"

"In the afternoon. Dude, are you alright? You sound like you just got hit over the head or something."

"Uhm. Yeah." The line was quiet a second. How in the hell had he slept until two?  
"Yeah you got hit over the head or yeah to Topless?"

"What time, Lexi?" he went on. His first-awake mode wasn't one that could handle Lexi's...whatever it was.

"Eleven. For the good girls. I'm buying drinks. See you there!" And she hung up. He'd began to wonder if she'd gotten in trouble with her girl- if she had a girl – and gotten banned from the club. He hadn't seen her in the times he'd gone back to the Turve. It'd become a slightly regular thing in the past weeks. He spat out a paragraph or so and would hit a block. Stefan's slump was slowly becoming his downfall and he was really getting irritated that he couldn't bust out of it. It'd been two months nearly. After almost three years. And distracting himself had become his release. He'd slap the computer shut and head out to the club to go watch this one girl. It used to be all of them, but now it was her. He was sure this was some level of disturbing stalker, but he couldn't really help himself. He knew she didn't pay him any attention, but she had his the moment she walked onto the stage. She pranced with a sassy saunter and gave in to the music, like she didn't care she was fanning her most secretive parts for all of Virginia to see. She just went with it. Stefan had easily learned that she was one of Topless Turvy's biggest assets. Once a week she flew solo. She drew in quite a crowd, too. These crowds left people standing, and the ones who were lucky enough to nab a front seat- well, they were getting the bang for their buck. Front seats usually made a grab or slipped her a twenty. She hardly paid them any mind. She'd just collect the bills in a swing and tuck them where she could.

"She don't date clients," a heavy voice broke Stefan's focus. Behind the bar, a tender named Matt was filling a beer from the draft and eyeing him conspicuously.

"I don't expect her to."  
"You're watching her awful close. And have been for a while." Matt cleaned off his hands, still keeping a close patrol on him. It was guys like this one that made him nervous for the girls. He didn't want them hurt. "I see you in here a lot."

"Distraction," Stefan shrugged, finishing off the shitty beer he'd ordered out of curiosity. It was definitely something he'd never try again.

"You and every guy in this joint, dude. What're you skipping out on?" Matt poured him a draft, setting it by Stefan's propped elbow.

"To be honest? Heartbreak."

"Ouch." Stefan nodded, laughing a little.

"Part of life."

"Damn, man. That's the pits."

"You move on. At some point." He shrugged, picking up the fresh draft and taking a much better swig from it. He watched as she let someone audibly pop the string of her panties, sending a chorus of whoops through the crowd. It made Stefan seethe a little. No one noticed the grimace on her face but him.

"Groucho!" Lexi skidded to a halt and planted herself on the stool beside him. Matt threw a smile at her.

"You want your wine, Lex? Marie's on." Finally. He knew her name. Or her stage name at least. Marie.

"Am I breathing, Matty?" Lexi grinned back. "I see you met Stefan."

"Yeah I did. Marie's best customer." Matt chuckled, setting the stem of red wine before the blonde.

"Dude, you don't know half of it." She leaned in like she was telling some juicy gossip, a smirkish grin on her face. "He's a _writer_." Matt's brows rose.

"A writer? Like you write books? I thought all you guys did was listen to classical and wear sweaters over your shoulders like some preppy nerds." Stefan laughed.

"Uh...no. Not all of us."

"He's a special kind of nerd. He's a boobie nerd." He cocked his head at Lexi. Matt almost guffawed.

"You're just like this pop gun, full of surprises." Stefan made a gun with his hand, imitating one.

"So, Stefan. Why is a guy like you in a place like this watching a girl like her do a dance like that? You should be off writing a bestseller. Or listening to Beethoven." Stefan shook his head.

"Yeah, Stefan. You don't come three times a week over writer's block," Lexie chimed in. Stefan frowned.

"How do you know I come so often?"

"Kammie. She asked if you were with me. She's kind of kept an eye on you." Lexi wrinkled her nose with a knowing smile. "She thinks you're cute."

"Kammie?" He rose a brow, slightly afraid of what that look on Lexi's face meant. And he should've been. Matt pointed the mug he was polishing towards the table where a dark-haired woman was sitting a man down. The same woman who sat him down the first night he met Lexi. He closed his eyes, gave a small head shake.

"Not my type." He shivered a little, remembering the cold grasp she had and how skeleton-like her hand was as she led him towards his table. She looked like a bag of bones. One shapr blow of the wond and she'd be gone. Matt and Lexi let out a hoopla of a laugh.

"She's everyone's type, gorgeous," she grinned. "Don't worry. I told her you were taken. By me. Hi, boyfriend." She waggled her fingers. "Anyways, keep talking." Stefan shook his head, laughed a bit, and continued.

"I'm here because I've had a little bit of trouble getting over my fiance, since you're wanting to know." Lexi blinked.

"Fiance?"

"Yes. Fiance. And she left me last minute-"

"Not as in at the altar?" Lexi looked at Stefan with this pouty look on her face, brows knitted.

"Yeah," Stefan said a bit icily. "Exactly."

"Yo, dude. That's what sucks," Matt said, sliding a pair of shots towards he and Lex. Matt was right. It did suck. Three solid years he'd been involved with one woman. In love with her so unconditionally. He'd bend over backwards to make her happy. Planned a wedding. Planned a life. And at the very last second she completely balked and left him standing there in front of a hundred people with a heart full of disappointment when those blonde curls didn't march down the aisle. He downed his shot. No more thinking about her.

"Come on." Lexi grabbed Stefan's coat sleeve and pulled him from the bar. "Follow me." She made a twisting path through the herd of men that were there, alcohol dominant over every stench that was there. He watched her blonde head bob in and out and around shoulders until she stopped at the door near the stage. As he caught up to her, he noticed her waving through the door at someone. He leaned a little to see just as Lexi slipped over the threshold, pulling him with her. Stefan wondered if he were really supposed to be back here. It felt odd to be behind the scenes. Or at least partially. Half a wardrobe hung on a coat rack by the exit to the stage. Lined above it were a menagerie of portraits of dancers in semi-decent clothing. Many of them he noticed from dances late night. Particularly the dance team that Marie was on.

"Oops!" Lexi caught something as it fell. No, not something. Someone. Stefan flashed over to help the girl up, picking up the shoe that she'd lost falling down the stairs.

"Too many spins on that pole." The girl held her head, groaning as she weakly stood on her feet. It was Marie, off her dance about ten minutes early. Lexi pulled the chair from the hallway, plopping her into it.

"Are you alright?" Stefan offered her the shoe, which was a ridiculously high heel.

"Will be," she mumbled, looking up to him. She blinked a second at, one, the fact that he was a male. Behind stage. During hours. And two, that he was so pretty. And what made her sick was that he was probably escorted for a dance. From her. That she hated to do, as rare as she did them. They tended to go a little farther then she wanted. But, money was money, and she had rent due next week. And she needed to compensate Jeanine for her hit earlier.

"Hey, Marie. You sure you're alright?" Marie sat up a little in her chair, the dizziness not really going away fast enough. She nodded instead, smiling at Lexi who was rubbing her arm consolingly.

"Yeah, I'm good." She turned her attention to Stefan, letting the bitterness she had to have with all of the Turve's customers take hold. "I don't do requests. Or dances. I just push them for the other girls. Pays the rent sometimes."

"He's with me. He's cool," Lex cut in, seeing the iciness the dancer had picked up. Marie stared Stefan down for a short moment. He couldn't help but notice how sleep deprived she looked. Her eyes were bloodshot and circles under those pretty eyes rivaled those of some old woman.

"You were something out there. New moves?" She chuckled a little at Lexi as she broke her gaze at him to see her, slipping the second heel from her foot and standing up.

"Mm. When you're up, you get as crafty as you can." She plucked a wrinkled up bill that was wedged against her bare hip, unraveling it to show that it was a hundred. She popped it with a grin. "Rent money!"

Stefan felt a bit odd. He was probably sitting where Lexi should. Curious. Wondering how Marie, or whatever her name was, was letting herself stoop to something like this. His eyes skimmed over Marie, from her curled up hair to the sleepy-looking brown eyes, bloodshot and barely able to stay open. He wondered how she was even standing.

"Alright, Lex." She didn't even acknowledge Stefan. He supposed he understood why. "I have to finish my shift and check on the girls in dances. See you on the floor?"

"Of course." Lexi gave a big smile and pecked Marie on the cheek as she left. Marie threw a last glance towards Stefan, a solemn expression on her face, but never said a word. What the hell struck him with her? She was just a stripper, just like any of the other women he's watched numerous times on that stage. But she just caught his attention for some reason.

"Yo, pretty boy. You alive in there?" A hand was flashing across his line of vision. Lexi. Forgot she was there.

"Uh..yeah, just-"

"Well uh-yeah, we just gotta go. I'm not really supposed to be this far back." She hooked an arm through his and pulled him towards the main floor. He wanted to talk to Marie. Or whatever her name was. She didn't look like a Marie. But it'd have to do for now. Either way, hell would probably freeze over before he'd ever get the opportunity.

"You're being all...pensive."

"I just- nothing." He sat back down at a table, scooting the glass that was already there away. Lexi frowned a little, sensing his complete mood shift. She reached over, handing him a fifty.

"Go put a smile on your face, Stef," she grinned at him. He just stared at the bill.

"Are you drunk?" he asked, sliding it back towards its owner.

"Slightly. I'm more fun that way." She laughed. "What's wrong with you?"

"Here at midnight and you're already getting out of your head. Bad girl, Lexi."

"Oh yeah?" she smirked, taking the chance and jumping up in front of him and bending over to wag her ass at him. "Punish me then, big boy." Stefan shook his head with a loud laugh, grabbing her hand and pulling her back upright.

"Okay, okay. Don't get me in trouble." Lexi beamed and bumped her hip with his playfully.

"Oh come on. What Andie don't know won't kill her."

"No, but it'll come back and bite me in the ass." She prodded him in the ribs as the approached the bar again. Matt was gone, and a new tender took his place. He sloshed out two shots of Patron without missing a beat.

"You're no fun. Leaving me frisky." She smiled teasingly as a drink was dropped into her hand. Damn she was some sort of personality around here. Stefan's attention however was back to the stage, searching for a certain brunette who was nowhere to be found.

"So you know Marie?" He decided to prod. Maybe Lexi was a loose lips when she was a bit tipsy.

"Mhm. For a while now. She's been working here as long as I've been coming." She held up two fingers to show the number of years. "She's fantastic. In many ways."

"Can you tell me something about her?" Lexi waved a hand.

"Why?"

"Just..curious is all." He shrugged. "She's different."

"Slow your roll, Creepy Pants." Lexi furrowed a blonde brow. "Don't make me regret taking you back there."

"I'm not trying to be be creepy. I'm just asking. She's something."

"Yeah, you and half of Virginia think the same thing, Stefan. She's pretty. She's naked. She's going to get your pants tight. Just throw her a bill and leave it at that." She downed the shot without a flinch. Stefan grumbled to himself, rolling his tiny glass between his forefinger and thumb.

"You've had, what? Four drinks now? And all those were pretty stout. Maybe you're just a little out of it."

"I get it. I'll shut up," he muttered. Lexi rolled her eyes. A broody-looking expression replaced the one of curiosity that was there just a few minutes ago. Obviously she'd pissed him off. She sighed.

"Look, I don't know a whole lot about her. I'm not telling you her real name. She'd end me. But I do know she's working hard _all _the time. She waitresses somewhere in town during the day, dances at night. I don't know how she's still standing.

"So you know her?"

Lexi nodded, a little skeptic with testing the waters with him. "I do know her. We have lunch every once in a while. She's really a nice girl. Haven't seen her in a few months, though. Just on stage." Stefan nodded slowly. Lexi couldn't help but watch him like a hawk. Did someone spike his drink? Or was he always just this weird? Stefan got to his feet and zipped his jacket. This whole situation was off and completely stupid. He was just grabbing. Lately this depression he was sunk into was really beginning to set in, and the only thing that took his mind away from one girl was a flock of naked other ones and a glass of Jim Beam. And now he was picking out a favorite. He was really getting pathetic.

When he got home, the alarm clock by the stand let out a single beep. Four in the morning. His laptop was open on the bed where he left it, the typing cursor waiting for him to continue his story. Which wasn't happening anytime soon. He didn't care that that cursor screamed at him with each blink. It wasn't just the computer waiting. It was the publishing company, knocking with each flash. _Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. _Where was that new story? That continuation of a series he loved so much and took on and was actually really making a living with. It was due in weeks and he was barely getting started. He slammed the thing shut with a groggy slap of his hand, pushing it away and falling back into the unmade mess of sheets. For the most part, that computer being shut took some of the pressure away. Out of sight wasn't out of mind, though. Slowly he began to doze off, away from all of this...shit. Which was all it was. Shit that he'd decided might as well be called his life. Sleep erased that, if only for a little while, but it was worth it to him if he didn't have to think. But tonight was different. Instead of just letting the alcohol push him into that lovely empty abyss of numb and unconsciousness, his mind decided to turn. It pulled out the worst thoughts from the deepest part of his brain, where he thought he'd shut them out.

"I love you, Stefan." Her voice rang so loud and clear, it was if she were there beside him. "But..." She was so perfect. Everything he'd ever dreamed. And she shattered him with two words.

"_I can't._"

The overwhelming smell of flowers- pink roses in fair recollection –invaded his nostrils. So fragrant, bright. Her favorite. They'd over-run the church that day.

He jumped out of that torture, the blatant ringing of his clock bringing him to. 12 noon.

"God damn it," he groaned, covering his eyes at the sunlight that spoked through the curtains. His head wasn't pounding, but by two he'd feel like hell. Or worse hell. But what else was new? This was just Stefan Salvatore's everyday life now. Ticking by achingly slow.


	3. Served

Stefan trudged down the sidewalk towards the cafe in the center of Mystic Falls. It was raining atrociously, so he'd tucked his computer case inside the front of his coat to protect it until he was inside. Of all days to decide to leave the house he'd chosen today. Figured. Once he entered, he shook off the excess water from his garment and shed it, claiming the booth near the window. A quaint place, he'd only been there a couple times. It was your run-of-the-mill diner, serving breakfast until 11 and coffee until the maker quit. Being that today was Sunday and despite being a lively town, it was still a little old fashioned in Mystic Falls. People closed up shop on Sunday for the most part, leaving here the only place to eat a breakfast or get that hangover cup of joe. So, naturally, it was full of sick-looking folks. Uninterested in food, he decided to have a cup of coffee. Maybe, he thought, he could turn caffeine into words to mail off by next month. Across the room, the only waitress on shift had spotted him make his seat and rushed to take his order, putting on a smile and pulling out an order ticket. Stefan spotted her as well, freezing like some deer who'd heard a noise. Her hair wasn't in its messy curls and her face wasn't painted up. It was sleek, in a simple ponytail, and her eyes had just enough to make them even prettier than before. And, notedly, he couldn't say he'd ever seen her with clothes on. But he'd notice those brown eyes anywhere. She stopped beside his table, flipping out a fresh ticket to jot on. She started talking before she'd even seen his face.

"Hi there, I'll be taking care of you this morning. I'm E-" And when she did, she froze. This guy. Lexi's friend. Lexi's _gorgeously hot _friend. God damn it. _Him? _Here? Now?

"Hi," Stefan smiled at her. She choked. This was ridiculous.

"Uhm..."

"I think this is the part where you ask me if I want anything," he smirked, holding up the menu in his hand as he looked up to her.

"Well do you?" she inhaled, composing herself as she picked up her pen.

"You can start by telling me your name." That made her laugh. A dry laugh, but a laugh.

"You know one name. That's all you need to know."

"What? Marie?" He snorted. "Please. You're not a Marie."  
"Excuse me? _Not a Marie?_ What the hell does that mean?"

"That you don't look like a Marie. Believe me. I know these things." She narrowed her eyes, irritated.  
"Are you going to order or what?" Behind her was an order window, and the cook stuck his head out, a row of platters waiting. He had an angry look on his sweat-drenched face as his eyes landed on Marie.

"ELENA! FOOD. NOW," he yelled, and disappeared back into the kitchen. Back beside his table, her eyes closed, jaw visibly clenched as she sang a string of curses under her breath. Stefan grinned up at her proudly. She'd just been outed, like it or not.

"That's a better name. Elena."

"Are you going to order or not, jackass?" she hissed. "I've got food to throw out."

"Just a coffee. Take your time." He hauled out the laptop from its case and woke it up, the screen waking to that same document from the night before. Elena glared for a short moment, before she finally turned to tend to the plates of food in the order window. God forbid Tyler see a plate of food twice. He was so damn particular. He didn't like her late because that screwed everyone up, and he didn't like her early because that meant more he had to pay her. If she was the first waitress in, which usually she was the only waitress in, she helped him in the kitchen. She didn't mind the kitchen. She actually liked to cook. But after remarks he'd made about her a couple times and a grabbing hand, she'd made sure she stayed out in the dining area until the first customer arrived. Tyler had seen her at Topsy Turvy. She tried her best to keep makeup on and even wigs to keep her own face safe, but he saw right through it. She just loathed the day that he decided to waltz in and request a dance from her. She'd probably vomit on the spot. She didn't complain. She'd stabbed his hand once, but he just barely let her slide. He paid her well, and along with the tips she made she left with a nice chunk of cash by the end of her shift each time she worked. And even if he did decide to be shitty enough to play the card Elena sometimes felt wasn't that far away, she was pretty sure she wouldn't quit even then. So many things needed money, and this was her other good job that helped keep the lights on.

It was a near twenty minutes before Stefan saw his coffee. Not that he cared, but he noticed Marie/Elena got caught up between waiting, cleaning, and taking checks. She was so solemn the entire time, giving a flat, unhappy smile before continuing to another task.

"Are you working by yourself?" he asked her when she finally appeared with his order.

"Always do," she shrugged, setting a few packets each of sugar and powdered creamer beside him.

"You were just like three women out there," he observed, eyes skitching across the now-calm room.

"It's not that bad. Unless the entire city decides to come eat at once. You need anything else?" She was really itching to get away from him. Talking to someone she danced for seemed made her feel dirty. And not in a good way. Although she supposed she probably served more observers than she really knew. But she never remembered a face. Not until this guy, anyways.

"Uh..no, I'm okay. Thanks." She nodded, gave him that flat smile, and left.

For several hours, Stefan let the clanking of dishes and low, milling sound of voices numb his mind. He honed in over his computer, determined to spit out at least a chapter before he left his booth. And so far, he was doing okay. When he went back and read it it might be shit, but for now at least he was even typing. He'd begun to gather what was happening in this story and he was afraid not to write it down. Not that it would simply go away, but it'd change. Little bit by little tiny bit, and what he was hearing now was what he liked. He couldn't count the times he'd thought of something genius and pledged to write it later, and it came out something magnificently less brilliant than what had crossed his mind earlier.

"You're still here?" When he finally looked up, the sun was setting and the diner was near empty. Chairs were overturned on tabletops and "wet floor" signs were out. Elena/Marie was leaving the kitchen, coat and purse on her arm and keys in her hand.

"Closed already?" He shut his laptop.

"It's like 5:30. They close early on Sundays. What in the hell are you working on that you didn't move for six hours?"

"Oh. Book." Stefan drug the computer and its bag off the table and over his shoulder. Elena rose a brow.

"You're a writer?" He nodded. Great. And he was smart. She laughed a bit.

"What?" She shook her head, heading for the door.

"Nothing." Stefan slipped out the door behind her and she turned to lock it. She hated this key. For some reason Tyler thought that raises and power to the restaurant would swoon her. Or just get her to suck his dick. The most it got him was an ass grab once in a while. God. He found out she worked at the strip joint he'd be there for a dance in thirty seconds flat. The thought make her gag.

"Can I ask you something?" He was still there? She looked up to Stefan, holding her keys tightly. He saw her tense and glanced to her clenched hands. Was that pepper spray? He laughed.

"Look, er- can I call you Elena?"

"I guess..." She was still on guard, nervous as hell.

"I'm not trying to be weird or anything, but I-"

"I don't date clients," she cut him off. "It's like picking favorites. I don't pick favorites." Stefan let out a laugh.

"Actually, I just wanted to ask you why you danced." Elena's neck grew hot. Thank God it was dusk and he couldn't see.

"Oh. I—it pays. Rent, car note." She shrugged. "It's all I really know. What? Don't tell me you think it's trashy."

"What?" Stefan blinked. "Oh, no. Not at all. I just..you seem so out of place up there." He rolled his shoulders this time. "It's not my business I suppose, but I had to ask." He smiled at her kindly as he tucked his hands into the pockets of coat. "I'll see you another time. Good night." She was a little taken aback. What had he meant 'she looked out of place'? She glanced back, seeing his disappearing figure as she walked to her car. She tried to push the thought from her mind. She had more things to think about than him. A whole list of things that needed to be done before she went to the club tonight. Cleaning up the house, cooking dinner, making sure all was well at home. She had to be at the club by 11:30 to get ready for her 12 show. Maybe by the grace of God she could catch a few hours sleep. A line sometimes only got you so far. She was really beginning to feel it. The club boss offered her a few days off since she'd been going non-stop for the past three weeks, but she refused. She needed all the money she could get. Bills didn't pay themselves. And at the money she got a night, she was getting a healthy bit to pay on the hospital bills that were piling up. Elena dropped her purse on the floor beside the door and began stripping the ugly butter-yellow dress from her body. She needed a bath, but she had to tend to other things first. She drug out a pan and a pound of hamburger meat, cooking it over the stove as she chopped up lettuce and tomato for a taco salad. It looked delicious, but the thought of just trying to chew made her want to sleep for a week. She set the plate on a tray and carried it to the room down the hall where her mother lay, wondering what condition she might be in today. And despite her long day that wasn't even over, the smile that greeted her lifted her spirits.


End file.
